


Full Circle

by mldrgrl



Series: Adventures of The Lady Detective and The Writer [49]
Category: Californication (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Melancholy, changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 17:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Stella and Hank prepare for the pending move to NYC





	Full Circle

Leaving a job after more than twenty years was difficult.  Stella thought she could be an exception to the rule. She’d kept her colleagues at a distance for most of her time on the force, which allowed her the detachment necessary to do her job effectively.  Whereas others might have felt isolated, she felt comfortable.

 

It came as a surprise to her that packing her office came with unexpected melancholy.  Hank had come with her to carry heavy boxes, according to him, but she knew it was only because he’d been curious about what her life in Scotland Yard was like and he’d never been inside.  If he didn’t tag along now, there’d never be another opportunity. He rescued an anti-stress ball that had been in a gift bag from some conference somewhere that she’d just thrown in the rubbish bin and flopped down on the couch in her office to toss it around.

 

“I expected more funny hats,” he said.  “I never asked, why are your cops called Bobbies?”

 

“The home minister that created the police force was named Sir Robert Peel,” she answered, wrapping an elastic band around a folder of personal files to take with her.  “The public referred to them as Peelers for some time, and then Bobbies.”

 

“Do you think Emma Peel was named in honor of Robert Peel?  God, she was hot.”

 

“I’m not up to speed on my Avengers trivia, I’m afraid.”

 

There was a light knock on the open door of her office and she looked up from packing her files.  Jim Burns gave her a half-smile and gave a nervous glance around the room.

 

“You’re needed, Mrs. Peel,” Hank said in a posh British accent.

 

“Jim,” Stella acknowledged.  “This is my husband, Hank. Hank, this is Jim Burns.  He was my supervisor once upon a time.”

 

“What’s up?”  Hank waved his fingers and then tossed his ball in the air again.

 

“Uh.”  Jim cleared his throat and began to stammer over a goodbye.  “I know today is...well, I thought I would just come down...you know, uh, wish you luck and everything.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Well, I’ll uh...I should let you…it was nice to meet you.  Hank.”

 

Hank waved his fingers again and Jim patted his hand against the door frame before making an awkward exit.  As soon as he was gone, Hank whistled low like a bomb dropping and raised his brows at Stella.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“You must’ve done some kind of number on that guy.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You want me to believe you never fucked that guy?”

 

She glanced at the empty doorway and then raised her brow back at him.  “I’m merely denying that I did any type of number on him.”

 

Hank threw the ball up again and caught it mid-air.  “I’d be jealous, but I just feel sorry for him.”

 

Stella put the lid on the banker’s box she was using to pack her personal items and placed her hands on the top.  Twenty years in one small box. She breathed in deep through her nose and then collected her jacket from the coat rack.

 

It’s just a job, she told herself, watching Hank pocket the anti-stress ball and then grab the box from her desk.  Just a job.

 

*****

 

The house was empty, save for a few select pieces of furniture the new buyers had requested as part of the sale.  The barstools remained, the slender end table in the hallway remained, and the pair of chairs in front of the bay window also remained.  They had asked for the glass bookcase in the bedroom, but it was one item Stella wouldn’t part with, and wouldn’t send to storage. It was costly to ship, but she was attached to it and so it was making the journey to New York as well.

 

Stella stood in her empty bedroom and took a final look around.  In less than an hour she would be signing the final papers to complete the sale of her home and then in the morning she and Hank would be on a plane to New York where they would remain.  Permanently. No traveling back and forth across the Atlantic anymore. They were no longer Londoners and she was no longer on the police force.

 

“Hey,” Hank said, stepping up behind her and hooking an arm around her chest.

 

“Just taking a last look,” she said.

 

“Fond memories of this room.  Very fond.” He pressed his hips up against her back and she took hold of his arm across her chest and smiled.

 

“You’re the only man that’s been with me in this room.  Have I ever told you that?”

 

“I took your bedroom virginity?  Humbled and honored. You should’ve told me earlier, I’d have written an acceptance speech.”

 

“Do you know, when I looked at this house, these walls were blue.”

 

“Blue?  How blue are we talking?  Ocean blue, Smurf blue, or Stella blue?”

 

“Like a hazy sky.”

 

“I can see why you’d paint over it.”

 

“I wonder if the new owners will paint.  I wonder if by next week these walls will be buttercream or lilac.”

 

“You can pull out, you know,” he said, opening up his arm to step in a half-circle to face her.  “You don’t have to sell if you don’t want to.”

 

She put her hands on his chest and patted very lightly.  “I want to,” she said, her eyes drifting over the bare walls for another look.

 

“I’ll be downstairs.”

 

She nodded and her eyes fluttered shut as he cupped her cheeks and caught her lips with a few short pecks.  On his last kiss, he lingered and she captured his wrist to tug his hand away. He got in one more peck to the corner of her mouth and then brushed past her and out the door.  Before she joined him, she gave herself one last walk around the perimeter of the room, feeling unexpectedly sentimental to the point that she found herself caressing the closet doorknob almost reverently.  Suddenly feeling foolish, she jerked her hand away and held her wrist near her chest. 

 

It’s only a house, she thought.  Nothing more.

 

Adjusting her blazer by tugging on the lapels, she turned on her heel and joined Hank downstairs.  He was on his cell phone, leaning against the wall. Their bags were in front of the door. He nodded at her and pushed away from the wall.

 

“Gotta go,” he said.  “Becca says hi.”

 

“Hello to Becca,” she answered.

 

“Stella says hi back, we’ll see you soon.”  He hung up the phone and put it in the pocket of his leather jacket.  “Ready?”

 

“Yes.”

 

*****

 

Papers were signed, checks were distributed, and keys were turned over.  The townhouse was no longer hers. On the one hand, she was relieved of the burden of a mortgage, on the other, she felt bereft and untethered, even if she had a home in New York.  The house was the first move towards something permanent she’d ever made in her life. Marrying Hank was the second. Moving to New York, well that was almost like making the permanent officially permanent.

 

Hank had waited with the car while she went into the realtor’s office to sign the papers.  When she came out, he was chatting up the driver as they both leaned against the hood of the black towncar.  For one last time, she’d called her favorite car service and her favorite driver,  Nicolá, had shown up promptly on time, as effusive as always.  He and Hank had met on several occasions, but she couldn’t recall if they’d ever had a conversation.  As soon as he saw Stella, he put his hat back on and opened the back door for her.

 

“To the bank now, signora?” he asked.

 

“Please,” she answered.  

 

After the banking was done, there was officially nothing left to be done except check in to their hotel for the night.  She’d left those arrangements to Hank and didn’t know where they’d be staying, but she hoped they had room service. She didn’t feel much like going out.

 

“Signora, may I say it’s been a pleasure driving you,” Nicolá said as he set their suitcases at the curb in front of their hotel.  “If you return to London at any time, please allow me to drive for you, it would be my honor.”

 

Stella smiled and on impulse, embraced the older man.  He’d been a constant in her life for the past few years and she would actually miss him.  Her eyes grew a bit misty, but she blinked away any sign of emotion before she stepped back.

 

“My wife is going to call me a silly old goat when I tell her the most remarkable woman in London next to her majesty embraced me today.”

 

“Take care, Nicolá.”

 

“You as well, signora.”

 

Stella managed to draw out the process of gathering their bags together to enter the hotel just long enough to watch Nicolá drive away.  She felt a little foolish for wanting to see him off and she reminded herself that drivers come and go. He was just a man who got her from place to place, nothing more.

 

*****

 

The hotel was familiar to Stella in a way she didn’t pinpoint until they walked into the room.  She paused by the bed, looked out the window, and then turned back to Hank who was still in the entryway.

 

“This is…” she started.

 

“Where we met,” he finished, and then drew a line beneath the brass 908 above the peephole with his fingertip.

 

“Same room.”

 

“Your room.  I was in 523.”

 

Stella stepped out of her heels and untucked her blouse as she walked to the window.  It wasn’t dark yet, like it was the night she went to bed with him. Hyde Park bustled below.  She heard the door snick shut and a few moments later Hank was beside her.

 

“Nice view,” he said.

 

“It is,” she agreed.  She’d never really appreciated it before and now she didn’t know when she’d be back.

 

“I know it’s not easy, Sherlock.”

 

“It’s just a city.”

 

“Nothing is ever  _ just _ anything.”

 

She wanted to nod in agreement, but there was a lump in her throat that caused her to remain still.  She stared out over treetops and rooftops that she’d seen her whole life, but never taken a good look at.

 

“Why here?” she asked.

 

“Because when I walked out the door that night, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, even if I wanted to.  Tomorrow morning we’ll walk out of here together and I won’t have to wonder where you are, I’ll know. You’re with me.”

 

She turned from the window and put her hands on Hank’s chest.  His jacket was in her way so she pushed it off his shoulders and he shrugged it to the floor.  “I am with you,” she said.

 

“I thought that, you know technically, we began here.  And we can begin again here with something new.”

 

Stella nodded once and took a step closer to rest her head against Hank’s chest.  She put her arms around him and he wrapped his around her, swaying back and forth a little.

 

“It’s harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted.

 

“I know.”

 

“I want it though.”

 

“Stella, did you ever imagine that one night would lead us here?  Or even that weekend in LA. Did you ever think, even for a second, that we’d end up where we are in this moment?”

 

“Not in the slightest.”

 

“You know, if we weren’t already married, I’d propose to you right now.”

 

“I would say yes.”

 

“What do you want to do now, Sherlock?  On our last night?”

 

“Mm.”  She breathed deeply and closed her eyes.  “Hot shower. Room service.”

 

“Cheeseburger?”

 

“God, yes.”

 

“Fries?”

 

“I knew I married you for a reason.”

 

Hank gave her a squeeze and then let go.  “Take your shower. I’ll place an order.”

 

Stella went one way towards the bathroom and Hank went the other towards the phone.  She pivoted when she was halfway, unbuttoning her blouse as she walked backwards. “As I recall, the shower is large enough for two,” she said.

 

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he answered, the hotel service guide on the end table in his hand.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

“Don’t make me wait.”  She turned and shed her shirt just before the door to the bathroom.

 

“Hey, Sherlock,” he called to her, the phone at his ear.  “Think of this new life as an adventure.”

 

“It already has been, Watson.  A very lovely adventure.”

 

The End

  
  



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